


I Find Myself Salting the Earth

by ghostbursupremacyhours



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Don't read, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE LATEST LORE STREAMS, Mentioned Ghost Wilbur Soot, Mostly alivebur though, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Spoilers, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbursupremacyhours/pseuds/ghostbursupremacyhours
Summary: Wilbur languishes in the afterlife, up until a familiar face appears at his side.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 180





	I Find Myself Salting the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> The title's from Wilbur's song "Your Sister Was Right"
> 
> Also thought I'd make something to try and make us feel better. I have no doubt Dream will resurrect Tommy, too much foreshadowing for him not to, but Tommy still deserves a hug.
> 
> I'm convinced that cc!Tommy and cc!Dream like to make us suffer.

The notes drift through the clearing and under the trees, Wilbur's hands striking each note with a delicate precision he is certain he never possessed in life. Every note feels right, reverberates in his mind and body and soul, and when he hums he's always on tune.

He hates it.

He hates how perfect his music is here, how perfect everything is here. He hates that when he smokes, cigarettes don't make his throat itch anymore. He hates that Schlatt's whiskey smells more like honey than liquor. He wants to blame that damn god who made this place. Who made it perfect and peaceful. He wants to watch it go up in smoke and gunpowder, watch the earth be torn apart here like it was in L'Manberg on the day he died. He tried, once. Asked for TnT and _of course,_ he got it. They aren't denied anything. He lights a stick and watches the fuse burn down before tossing it. Hears the explosion, muffled to prevent hearing loss (dammit, even thought of this), and when he walks over he finds that it's exactly the same. No burn marks, no scattered earth and sod and smoke, just pristine land.

He spends the next hour screaming his voice hoarse. That, at least, is something their cruel god will allow.

He closes his eyes and places his guitar in its case. All is quiet for a moment, blissfully so given that Schlatt has probably already headed back to his house that was provided. Wilbur doesn't want to return to his own home, not yet. Something feels different about today, and he wants to find out why. Why his chest is tightening around his heart, and why the small glimpses he gets into the living world via Ghostbur feel full of grief and anger and the cracking of knuckles on stone walls.

He gets his answer a few minutes later in the sound of footsteps, muffled on the grass, and a tiny, terrified whisper of "Wilbur?"

Wilbur's heart sinks into his shoes. As awful of him as it was, he was hoping it might be Phil, or Tubbo, or even Technoblade that had died (he knew someone had passed, his glimpses into reality gave him that much), but he had hoped against hope that it wasn't Fundy, or that he wouldn't be stuck here with Dream. Somehow, looking up and seeing his little brother, was so much worse than any of the others. Because Tommy had always strived to live, had gone out of his way to be such a bright star in the darkest seas, who had stood and looked death in the face and smiled and laughed. Over and over again, Tommy had outlived everyone else. Had outlived Schlatt and Wilbur, had outlived Dream's freedom, and every single war. He had thrown himself into chaos and came out a little more broken, a little more damaged, but as he patched up his wounds and polished his sword, he'd still been smiling.

As Wilbur stares up at him, eyes wide with pained horror, he isn't smiling. He's scared, and there are tears streaming down his face, and it doesn't take more than a moment for Wilbur to fly out of his spot and wrap Tommy into his arms, holding him as close as he can as he sobs into Wilbur's chest. Wilbur shooshes him, whispering words he hopes are comforting as he gently runs his hands through his hair.

"I-I was stuck in there with him for so long," Tommy sobs and Wilbur's chest tightens. "He k-killed me. To p-prove a point. Will I-"

Wilbur feels anger wash over him at the thought of what Dream must have done to him. Being stuck in an obsidian cage with no key with the man who had manipulated you, who had taken your first two lives only to take your last as well. Wilbur had been able to go out on his own terms, at least. Tommy didn't get that.

"He'll never hurt you again," Wilbur whispers, holding him close to his chest.

The moment passes and the sun dips below the horizon. Wilbur sighs and leads Tommy to his house, a small stone and wood cottage tucked amongst the trees. He sits Tommy at the dining room table before starting his woodburning stove, carefully prodding at the logs as the heat and light of the fire wash over him. Tommy doesn't speak, just watches him in heartbreaking silence. Wilbur attempts to put a smile on his face, and it's wavery and broken and he turns to look at his little brother.

"Anything, in particular, you'd like to eat? I can get us just about anything in here, provided I ask nicely."

Tommy gives him a lopsided, pained smile. "As long as it's not potatoes." And though it's meant to be a joke, maybe referencing Techno, maybe the prison, maybe something else, it stings and aches in Wilbur's chest.

"How about grilled cheese and tomato soup, yeah? Always cheered you up when we were kids!"

"That sounds... perfect, actually. Thanks Will."

Wilbur turns and smiles at him. "Anything for you dear brother."

Dinner passes in silence and by the end, Tommy looks about ready to pass out. Wilbur can't blame him; he knows the boy always ends up exhausted after he cries, and so he gently leads Tommy upstairs and to bed. He crawls in and says nothing, and Wilbur puts out most of the lights before silently sitting on the ground beside the bed and taking Tommy's hand.

"I'm not going anywhere and no one is getting in here. Sleep."

Tommy squeezes his hand and drifts off. Wilbur takes the moment to observe his face, the dark circles, and tear tracks, and quietly hopes that at least here, Tommy will be safe and comfortable and maybe happy.

No, Wilbur will make sure that Tommy is happy. Even if he has to bully a god into submission, he will ensure that Tommy is as happy as he can be. That he will never be hurt again.

Never again.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Well that didn't go how I thought it would... So, uh, enjoy this alternate setup of events instead of competitive solitaire.


End file.
